


Old Wounds

by ciitadel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Shiro-centric, includes a flashback, talks about how he got that scar on his nose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 18:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12114624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciitadel/pseuds/ciitadel
Summary: The team is having a conversation about scars and Lance decides to ask how Shiro how he got his scar. They were all expecting some wild tale of a vicious gladiator fight, or something heroic of the sort.They weren't expecting it to have been because of a muzzle.





	Old Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So about a month and a half ago I saw [this](https://twitter.com/Aloevieraferren/status/892433605737230336%20) amazing art on twitter that included a hc that Shiro got his scar because of a muzzle and I just _had_ to write something for it because that hit me hard man. 
> 
> also I'm very tired while posting this and this is unbetaed so excuse any grammar errors you might see, I apologize in advance for those
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!

“You wanna know how I got this scar?”

“Not really, Lance.” 

Keith smirked at the dry tone in Pidge’s response, watching as Lance huffed and pulled his shirt back up, hiding the scar on his collarbone once more. 

The paladins had just finished training an hour before, and were now relaxing in the Castle’s common room, making idle conversation with one another as they waited for dinner time to come. 

They had been having a conversation about their lives back on Earth, which had somehow turned into a conversation about how badass each of the paladins were. Lance ranked them in order of Shiro being the most badass, Lance the second, Keith the third, Hunk the fourth, and Pidge the fifth.

Pidge then electrocuted Lance with her bayard and he changed it so both she and Hunk were equally badass. 

Hunk then protested that Keith was the second most badass, and in an effort to prove how badass he was, Lance had pulled his shirt down to reveal the scar on his collarbone. 

“Well does Keith have any super cool scars like that one?” Lance asked, looking at Hunk pointedly. 

“How would I know if Keith has any scars?” Hunk was raising a questioning eyebrow at Lance. Hunk then turned to Keith. “Keith, do you have any badass scars?” Keith frowned as he thought about it. Did he have any scars?

Oh, wait, yeah he did.

“Yeah, I have one on my back.” He answered, leaning back against the couch. 

“You should show it to us,” Pidge said.

“Only if you're comfortable with that.” Shiro added in, not having said much so far in the conversation. 

“Why? What does having scars even have anything to do with being badass?” Keith asked, having not understood the entire point of the conversation. 

“Because it shows any injuries you've gotten and dealt with, man! It shows your life experience!” Lance exclaimed, throwing his arms out for emphasis. Keith sighed, knowing the team wasn't going to let this go. 

“Fine, I'll show it to you.” Keith grumbled, turning around and lifting the back of his shirt so his friends could see the long scar stretching diagonally across his spine. Hunk hissed between his teeth while Pidge’s eyes widened. Keith pulled the shirt back down and turned around, and saw Lance giving him a mildly surprised look.

“I'll admit, that scar is pretty cool. How'd you get it?” He asked. 

“Doesn't really have a cool story. When I was young, like, really young, I climbed a tree and fell off. On my way down a sharp branch caught my back.” Keith said with a shrug. Lance and Hunk both snorted at that, and Pidge put her hand on Keith’s shoulder.

“Nice one, Kogane.” She said sarcastically. Keith rolled his eyes.

“Told you guys it wasn't cool.” Lance nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, that's not very cool. I think he's still ranked in 3rd.” He said. “The way you get scars affects how much of a badass you are. Like Shiro’s scar. I'm sure he got that in some battle or something with the Galra, and while we all know being imprisoned by an alien race is pretty fucked up, it's still a cool story.” Lance explained, glancing to Shiro.

“Shiro’s right there, you could ask him yourself.” Keith pointed out, looking to Shiro. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry Shiro, you've just been kinda quiet. But if you’re okay with telling us, how did you get that scar on your nose?” Lance asked, turning to face their leader. 

“Yeah, I've always wondered how that happened.” Pidge added, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. 

Shiro was quiet for a moment. Keith just now noticed how he was hunched over slightly, his eyes glued to his feet. His hands were in front of him, and he was wringing them as he avoided eye contact with the others. 

Keith could tell he was pained by the question, and was about to speak up to change the subject, when suddenly Shiro spoke.

“...it was a muzzle.” He said, his voice so quiet it was difficult to make out the words. Before any of them could respond, Shiro stood up from the couch, and without looking at any of them, left the room. 

They were all stunned into silence for a moment.

Keith couldn't believe it. A muzzle. Of all the things that could've caused that scar, he wasn't expecting it to be a goddamn muzzle.

A flash of rage shot through him. How dare the Galra do this. Shiro didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of this at all. 

“...shit man.” Lance muttered after a while. Keith suddenly felt the urge to yell. He wanted to yell at Lance for asking Shiro that, for dredging up memories that pained him so. He wanted to yell at Lance about how ignorant he was to others feelings, and really just have somewhere to direct his anger to.

But he didn't. He knew it wouldn't do any good to yell at Lance. He hadn't known, and neither had the rest of them. And plus, Keith didn't even try to stop them, so how much better was he? 

Instead, Keith stood up, deciding to go after Shiro, and left the room without saying a word. 

Keith hurried down the hallway, anxious to catch up with Shiro to see if he could talk to him about what had just occurred. It didn't take long for him to get to Shiro’s door. 

He stood in front of the door, hesitating for only a moment, before he softly knocked against the cool metal. 

“Shiro? It's Keith. Can… can I come in?” He asked quietly. It was silent for a moment, and Keith began to wonder if Shiro was even in his room at all, until he heard a voice speak. 

“Yeah.” Opening the door, Keith stepped inside the room and saw Shiro sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. 

“Hey,” Keith said as he stepped in the room. Shiro looked up from where his face had been hidden, and Keith noticed he looked completely exhausted. 

Dark bags sat underneath his eyes, and his cheeks looked a bit more hollow than usual. It seemed as if he hadn't slept in weeks. Keith sat down next to Shiro on the bed.

“Are you okay?” Keith asked after a moment of silence. Shiro sighed, a shudder running through his body. 

“I'm… not terrible.” He answered, giving Keith a small, pained smile. Keith frowned and put his hand on Shiro’s shoulder.

“I'm sorry about earlier. I should've changed the subject or something.” Keith said quietly, making Shiro frown.

“No, don't apologize, you're fine.” Shiro said, straightening up. “I chose to tell you guys. It just… brought back memories.” Keith nodded, still feeling like he should've done something. 

It was quiet between them for a moment, then Shiro spoke again.

“The… The reason they put the muzzle on-” He started but Keith cut him off.

“You don't have to tell me, you don't owe me any sort of explanation for that.” Keith insisted, his hand moving to grab Shiro’s arm. Shiro sighed and shook his head, before shifting and moving his arm so he was holding Keith’s hand instead. Keith squeezed his hand reassuringly. 

“No, it's okay, I feel like… I want to tell someone about it,” He said, before glancing up at Keith. “If you'd be willing to listen?” Keith nodded.

“Of course, Shiro.” He said, giving his hand another squeeze. Shiro took a shaky breath and nodded, to himself or to Keith he didn't know, and began to speak.

“Well… the incident that provoked them to… muzzle me happened a bit after my third gladiator ring fight…”

~

_The crowd roared as Shiro stepped out of the gladiator ring, their cheers becoming muffled as soon as the door to the ring closed. Shiro stood in front of the door, panting heavily as he wiped the sweat and blood off his forehead with the back of his hand._

_He’d done it again. Every time he went into that arena, he was convinced he wouldn’t come out. He knew he was good at fighting, but he was battling aliens from galaxies he'd never even heard of. Eventually, one was going to come along, and they were going to be faster, or stronger, or smarter than him, and he’ll be killed._

_This would be his legacy. On Earth he’ll be known as the failed pilot of the Kerberos Mission. Within the Galra Empire he’ll be known as the former Champion. Someone who fought innocent prisoners to survive._

_It was a lose lose situation, but for now, he just had to focus on one thing._

_Surviving._

_The guard came while he was still catching his breath, and wasted no time in handcuffing him. Shiro didn’t fight it, he knew the guard had a taser gun and wouldn’t hesitate to use it._

_He was lead back to his cell, and the gazes of his fellow prisoners followed his every move. They were afraid of him. They knew that if they were sent to the arena, he’d be the one they faced._

_Before he became Champion the others used to speak to him._

_They don't speak to him anymore._

_The guard uncuffed him and practically shoved him into the cell, and he stumbled slightly before catching his footing. He heard the cell close behind him, and turned around to see the guard walking away without so much as a second glance. He takes a deep and shuddering breath, before sitting down on the pathetic excuse of a cot the Galra gave him after he won his first gladiator fight._

_And then, he’s alone._

_He wanted to sleep, but he knew he was still much too wired from the fight to sleep just yet. He could still feel the pounding of his chest, the roaring of his blood in his ears, and his own breathless gasps for air._

_So instead, he leaned back against the cot and squeezed his eyes shut, wondering if he could shut his thoughts off with sheer force of will._

_Shiro wasn’t sure how much time has passed, an hour possibly, when he heard screams coming from outside the cell._

_Leaping to his feet, Shiro ran to the cell bars, desperate to see what the cause of those screams are. His eyes searched frantically around, until his gaze fell on a group of guards all converged in a single cell. It was hard to tell from his angle, but by the way they were all moving it seemed almost as if they were… beating someone?_

_“STOP! STOP PLEASE!” A voice called out from the center of the Galra soldiers. Shiro’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening._

_“What’s going on here? What are you doing?!” Shiro called out, grabbing the bars with his hands._

_“QUIET PRISONER!” One of the Galra soldiers shouted in return, before the prisoner they’re beating let out another cry. Shiro winced at the obvious pain in the prisoner’s voice, and slammed against the bars once more._

_“Stop this! This isn’t fair you’re going to kill them!” Shiro protested. The other prisoners looked at him with wary eyes, and he met their gazes with a pleading expression of his own. Why weren’t they doing anything to stop this? One of the soldiers heaved and swung a leg at the figure in the middle, producing yet another scream._

_“PLEASE! STOP THIS! NOW! YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” Shiro screamed, slamming repeatedly against the bars. One of the soldiers stepped away from the prisoner, and marched over to Shiro’s cell. He reached in and grabbed the fabric of Shiro’s shirt, yanking him against the bars. Shiro grunted in pain, but held his glare against the guard._

_“Champion, I recommend you stop right now if you know what’s good for you.” The guard hissed at him. Another cry sounded from the prisoner, quieter this time, and Shiro felt a surge of anger flash through him._

_“NO! You are beating an innocent prisoner for no good reason-”_

_“I SAID THAT IS ENOUGH!” The guard slammed him into the cell bars again, and Shiro let out a yelp. Another guard turned away from the beating and frowned._

_“REZIO! YOU KNOW YOU CAN’T HARM THE CHAMPION!” The other guard shouted. The first guard, Rezio apparently, sucked in a small breath and let Shiro go, before the frown returned to his features._

_“Well he won’t listen to our orders!” Rezio shouted back. The other guard paused for a moment in thought, before his face lit up with an idea. He gestured Rezio over and whispered something in his ear, and he snapped his fingers. “That’ll work perfectly.” Rezio turned and looked back at Shiro, and his smile turned dark._

_“Come with me, Champion.” He emphasized the word ‘Champion’, and Shiro felt his blood run cold. Gulping, Shiro walked out of the cell once Rezio had opened the doors and handcuffed him, and walked down the corridor of prisoners, each one avoiding his eyes as they went._

_When they passed the poor alien that was being beaten by the guards, who had now stopped their attack, Shiro could see the alien lying in a pool of blue liquid that he inferred was their blood. Their light green skin was mottled with darker patches of blue, and their breaths were quick and shallow. The alien’s three yellow eyes followed him as he passed by, and Shiro winced, not regretting his actions for a second._

_The guard lead him down to the end of the prisoner ward, but instead of exiting the area, pulled Shiro aside to what seemed to be some sort of… armory?_

_No, armory wasn’t the right word to describe it. The room had no weapons in it, but instead was filled with an assortment of handcuffs, prisoner uniforms, tasers, batons, and oddly shaped, half masks of some sort._

_The guard took one of these masks off the wall and turned around, pressing a button on the mask that made the metal band at the back retract. Shiro furrowed his brows as Rezio approached him with the mask, and didn’t have time to react before the guard grabbed him by the hair and put the mask on his face. Shiro felt the metal band wrap around the back of his head, pressing the metal mask tightly to his face._

_“It’s better if you don’t fight it.” Rezio said when Shiro reached his handcuffed hands up in an attempt to yank the mask off. The metal band tightened further, and Shiro felt the metal of the mask around his nose begin to cut into his skin._

_He couldn’t breathe. It felt as if the mask was blocking his airways and he was slowly being suffocated._

_His breaths quickened as his heart began to pound. He began desperately clawing at the mask, desperate to get it off. He glanced up at Rezio as he tried to breathe, and found the Galra giving him a malicious smile._

_“It’s a muzzle, in case you couldn’t tell,” Rezio explained. “We use it on prisoners who just won’t cooperate.” Shiro was mostly ignoring the guard, attempting to calm himself to steady his breathing._

_Once he had stopped panicking, Shiro glared up at Rezio, knowing it would do him no good to try and talk. Rezio noticed his expression and laughed, before roughly grabbing his arm and leading him back out into the cell hall._

_This time, walking past his fellow prisoners, the aliens made no effort to hide their gawking at him. They hadn’t seen a muzzled prisoner in a while, and weren’t expecting anyone, let alone the Champion, to provoke the guards in such a way as to be muzzled._

_The cell of the prisoner the guards had beaten was empty as Shiro walked by, and he tried not to think about what this implied._

_Once they reached Shiro’s cell, the guard uncuffed Shiro, but before shoving him back in the cell, he pressed a button on the muzzle, and Shiro felt the metal band across the back of his head tighten impossibly more. The cold metal cut even deeper into the skin along the bridge of his nose, and Shiro would’ve cried out if he had been able to. Instead, the best he could do was whimper in pain as blood began to pour down his face and over the mask in thick, red, rivulets._

_First they’d taken his arm, a fact he was still adjusting to, and now they’d taken his voice._

_Shiro reminded himself that he just needed to focus on surviving, but that was becoming continuously more and more difficult as time went on. The Galra kept finding new ways to torment him, twist him into something he wasn’t, and try to break him._

_Shiro wasn’t sure how long it was before they finally took the mask off for good, but he estimated it was somewhere around at least two months. The Galra would take it off for Arena fights, and for meal time, but that was it._

_Eventually though, it was off and the wound on his nose healed, but not without a scar._

_The scar that was a constant reminder of his failure to help that alien prisoner._

_The scar that was a constant reminder of the days, weeks, possibly even months that he’d had his voice stolen from him._

_The scar that differentiated Shiro from the man he was before the Kerberos mission, to the man he was now. One man that used to dream about visiting the stars, about gazing at the vast infinities of the universe with his own eyes. The man he was now however, he knew what lay beyond the reaches of Earth._

_And it was terrifying._

~

Shiro finished his tale, and kept his gaze on his lap as he squeezed Keith’s hand yet again. 

“Shiro…” Keith began, before stopping. It was clear he didn’t know what to say. Who would? “I’m so sorry you had to go through that… but it won’t happen again. You won’t ever have to go through that again, I’ll make sure of it.” Shiro nodded, pursing his lips and refusing to look up at Keith. 

“Thank you, it’s just…” Shiro paused, wincing while Keith waited patiently for him to speak. “I couldn’t help them.” His voice was small, and Keith knew he was talking about the prisoner that had been beaten by the guards. 

“No, Shiro, that wasn’t your fault,” Keith said, leaning over to try and get a look at Shiro’s face. Shiro shook his head earnestly, still avoiding Keith’s gaze. 

“I could’ve done more to help them, I could’ve done more to help all the prisoners in there. I could’ve done so, so much more-”

“Stop,” Keith said, suddenly cutting Shiro off. Shiro glanced up in surprise, and Keith took his hand out of Shiro’s own, and instead moved both of his hands up to cup Shiro’s face. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for that, Shiro. You tried to save that prisoner, and got _fucking muzzled_ because of it. You did what you could, and that’s what matters. You’re not always going to be able to save everyone, but you try and that’s what makes the difference. Don’t think you’re bad person for that, because you’re not. You’re one of the best damn people I know, Takashi, so stop blaming yourself for everything.” 

Shiro blinked in surprise at Keith’s words, and his eyes began to well up with tears as Keith kept his hands on his face. Shiro got closer, and pressed his forehead against Keith’s, squeezing his eyes shut as he did so. He muttered a small _thank you_ as a tear began to stream down his cheek, and Keith brushed it away with his thumb. 

Keith leaned forward, tilting Shiro’s head down a bit with his hands as he did so. Then, with an unexpected gentleness, Keith pressed his lips against Shiro’s scar, and Shiro felt the tight ball of worry in his chest loosen just the slightest. Then, Keith pulled back, and Shiro opened his eyes to see Keith looking at him with a patient gaze. Without thinking, Shiro wrapped his arms around Keith, burying his face in the younger man’s neck, and let out a shuddering breath as small sobs began to force their way from his chest. 

He cried into Keith’s shoulder, thinking of the months of silence he’d had to endure, of the screams of pain of the prisoner he’d tried and failed to save, and of the countless people he’d had to watch the Galra hurt. It was a relief to get it out, to just let the tightness inside of him uncoil completely. Keith didn’t say anything, just ran his fingers up and down Shiro’s spine as time went on. At one point, Keith had laid both of them down onto the bed so they were more comfortable, and Shiro hadn’t even resisted. 

Eventually, Shiro stopped and pulled away from Keith, wiping his eyes as he did so. 

“T-Thank you, for that,” he said, his voice quiet and thick from the tears. “I still don’t agree with everything you said about me, but it did help a bit.” 

“God Shiro, you’re so stubborn,” Keith said, placing his hand on Shiro’s cheek again. Shiro leaned into the touch, smiling softly. 

“We should probably go back out to let the others know everything’s fine,” Shiro said after a few moments of easy silence between them. 

“I mean… we don’t have to do it right this second…” Keith muttered, rubbing his thumb against Shiro’s cheekbone. 

“Yeah, you’re right, they can wait a few minutes,” Shiro said, his eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion after the emotional rollercoaster he’d just been on. Keith nodded, his eyes beginning to close as well. 

A few minutes passed and nothing was said, and Shiro was nearly convinced Keith had fallen asleep when:

“Takashi?”

“Hm?”

“I meant what I said, you really are one of the best people I know.”

“...thank you. And, well, same goes for you. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.” Shiro heard Keith snort, but didn’t open his eyes. 

“Thanks, at least we can agree on that,” Keith said, his tone indicating he was smirking.

“Yeah, at least we can agree on that.”

**Author's Note:**

> God I just ,,, I love sheith man
> 
> Hope you guys liked this! I know it certainly hurt my heart to write it rip. Let me know if you enjoyed down in the comments! It makes me super happy to hear from you guys!
> 
> My tumblr (feel free to message me!): zarkondoms.tumblr.com


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